A Taste of Temptation

by Heather McGovern

  They were making out in a freaking shed at the lakeside of her family’s resort, and she was doing nothing to resist. She didn’t want to. She wanted this with Wright as much as he did.

  Her concerns about why they couldn’t do this were valid, but deep down, the only thing that ever stopped her was fear.

  Fear of losing everything. Her family, Wright, her own tenuous grasp on happiness.

  Her whole life she’d worried about what came next. The what-ifs.

  That’s what happened when your entire life changed in the five seconds it took for a car to skid on water. Then changed again in the time it took for one person to say, “I’m leaving.”

  But if no one knew what she and Wright were up to, then no one would be affected. There’d be no what-ifs to worry about.

  Since she’d become a Bradley, it felt like most of her life was spent trying like hell to keep the peace. When had she ever done anything for herself? When was the last time she selfishly went for something she wanted, not what was best for everyone else?

  Never. That’s when.

  She’d always gone through phases of lusting after Wright. She’d stomp it down and they’d move on, only for it to rear back up again.

  What if she could simply let go and let this happen?

  She slid her hands farther up Wright’s arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body firmly against his.

  With an appreciative hum that rumbled like a growl near the end, he put his arms around her too, hoisting her up, taking her lips again, kissing her like he was starving. She sucked hard at his bottom lip, earning another delicious noise from his throat. Then he started moving.

  It took a moment before she realized her feet no longer touched the ground.

  Wright walked until her bottom hit something—the stack of plastic chairs.

  He set her down, never breaking the kiss, not so much as a pause as he went back to kissing her cheek, her throat. She threaded fingers through his hair, holding him closer as he licked and nibbled her neck.

  Testing his reaction, she gave his hair a gentle tug, wanting him to take her lips again.

  Wright met her gaze, his skin as flushed as hers felt, a sensual grin on his face, his eyes shining.

  He leaned in, kissing her again, his hands smoothing up the back of her bare calves.

  All of her nerve endings fired to life, her skin prickling, hairs standing on end.

  She had on shorts, and Wright wasn’t shy.

  He dragged his hands up and up, to the back of her knees, tugging them wider and dragging her toward the edge of the chairs. His hands were strong, deft. An artist’s hands that she’d watched create delicacies and beauty. Those hands slid up her thighs, to the edge of her shorts, shooting a bolt of need straight to her core.

  Her muscles clenched and she tightened her legs together, around Wright. He sucked hard against the skin of her neck, murmuring words of approval.

  “Go on. You won’t hurt me,” he said.

  Having a man between her legs? Not that common an occurrence.

  A man like Wright? Never.

  She squeezed tighter against the swell of need but forced herself to let go of his hair, touching his neck, finding his skin even hotter than before, the feel of his throat, the vibrations as he spoke sexier than she ever thought possible.

  Inside, her nerves sang, a pulsing between her legs that she recognized but couldn’t believe.

  Wright tugged at the strap of her tank top, her bra sliding with it. He pulled and yanked, dragging his lips over every inch of skin as it was revealed.

  He murmured something she couldn’t make out against her skin. Something about her freckles. Then the air hit her, warm and humid, but his mouth was hotter, wet, and when he closed his lips around her nipple, she pinched her lips together to keep from crying out.

  She didn’t war with the sensations he wrung from her, or that it was Wright doing it. Right now, she didn’t care. She’d never felt this way. A dancing flame on the edge of wildfire.

  And when he grasped her hips and jerked her even farther forward, the hard line of his erection rubbed against her, and she knew.

  She and Wright were going to have sex.

  Maybe not right now, maybe not tonight. But they were eventually going to have sex—and it would be amazing. If everything so far was any indication, it’d be the most amazing sex of her life.

  And she couldn’t wait.

  She couldn’t wait to make him clamp down against his cry of pleasure the way she had. To see him naked and satisfy the dozens of curiosities she’d had for years. She couldn’t wait to make him come and then see him again later, both of them knowing what they’d done, what she’d done to him.

  Sophie moved her hand from her mouth and grasped Wright’s shoulders, keeping her lips pinched tight as he rocked into her. His hard-on rubbed against her just right, the friction making her blood sing. The cleft of her sex went full, sensitive, and she knew, if he kept going, what would happen.

  “God, you’re amazing,” Wright murmured against her skin, brushing his thumb over her nipple. He pressed himself harder against her, rubbing just right. “I knew it’d be like this with you. I knew.”

  As he pinched her nipple, Sophie pinched her eyes closed, and stars danced on the backs of her eyelids. She gasped, one long tremor taking over her body.

  Wright straightened to his full height, eyes wide, his beautiful square jaw slack. “Did you just—”

  She kissed him to shut him up.

  Yes, of course she came. Her body was highly sensitive when treated right. Thanks to no guy, she had to find that out for herself after college. But Wright knew what the hell he was doing.

  A minute later she leaned back, Wright’s expression still one of awe.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” She let her head fall back against the top of the chair. “Was that not the intention with all that rubbing and sucking?”

  He grinned, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. Then his laugh washed over her, full and rich, making her smile right along with him. “You’re so awesome. Why weren’t we doing this sooner?”

  “Soph?” Her brother Dev’s voice boomed across the beach as he called her name.

  “Shit.” She slapped her hand over Wright’s mouth, his eyes wide over the top of her fingers. “Move. I have to get down.” Once she hopped off the stack of chairs, she righted her top, fluffed her hair, and put her hat back on. “How do I look?” she whispered.

  Wright’s voice was a low-pitched, promising drawl. “Delicious. Like you’ve been debauched.”

  She swatted him on the arm. “Don’t just stand there. Help.”

  He tried smoothing her hair down, fixing her clothes, but in the end, him touching her wasn’t helping matters and she had to shoo his hands away.

  “Fine.” He stepped back. “You can pass for being overheated. But I can’t.”

  She checked him over again. He was gorgeous. Even better looking than yesterday, but there was no missing the tent he was currently pitching.

  “You can’t go out there like that.”

  “No shit.”

  “Don’t . . .” She let out a huff of frustration. “Stay in here and don’t come out until the coast is clear.” She shoved on her sunglasses and headed to the door, which was still slightly open.

  “Don’t lock me in here,” he hissed.

  Flapping her hand behind her she walked out into the sunlight, putting on her brightest, sweet sister smile, and closed the door behind her. “Dev. You looking for me?”

  Dev tossed his hands up and stalked through the sand. “Yes, I’m looking for you. Where have you been? We were going to go over the numbers for the catfish dinner at the Butler reunion.”

  The Butler reunion hadn’t occurred to her once today. “I know. But I had to make sure the lakeside was all set for this afternoon.”

  Dev took the time to check out the small beach, admiring her work. Which gave her an extra seco
nd to catch her breath and try to recalibrate after going from climax to catfish in less than sixty seconds.

  “Looks nice. Good work, Sis. I like the different colors of chairs. Festive.” He smiled, and while the sight was less rare nowadays, she remained as grateful every time.

  For all they’d been through, the times he’d broken her heart and made her want to cry with frustration for him to try not to be so angry, Dev was undeniably her favorite brother.

  He knew it. Everyone knew it. You weren’t supposed to have favorites within your family, but she and Dev broke that rule.

  The rough road that took Dev from wayward resentful son to one of Honeywilde’s greatest assets, and the town’s favorite Bradley, had only brought them closer. Of all her brothers, he was the one she could always talk to.

  And his best friend had just made her orgasm.

  “When did we get the umbrellas? They’re Honeywilde themed.” He held his hand over his eyes, looking at the signature apricot-and-white striped umbrellas dotting the beach.

  “A month ago. Madison helped me pick them out.”

  He hmmed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You wouldn’t have. You’ve been blind to everything except a Blueberry Festival and your girlfriend. Or is she your fiancée yet?”

  Without looking at her, he said, “Don’t start.”

  She had to start because she needed to think about something besides what she’d done. “Don’t avoid the question.”

  “She is not my fiancée, but I promise, you will be the first to know when she is. Satisfied?”

  Sophie rocked onto the balls of her feet and back again. “Very.” She adored Anna. Dev had never been more at ease, happy, or more positive about life’s possibilities. Anyone who could do that for him was a keeper in her book.

  “Come on then, let’s go inside or at least in the shade and talk about this reunion. I’m roasting out here.”

  And Wright was currently having a sauna in the storage building. They needed to leave the lakeside so he could escape. “How about inside? I need something to drink.”

  She led the way off the beach as quickly as she could. Only when they reached the crest of the slope leading up to the inn did she risk glancing back to see the storage room door ease open.

  Chapter 8

  Wright sucked in lungs full of fresh air, cursing the summer heat. Luckily, the few lakeside guests around were too caught up with their books or sunbathing to notice him stumbling from the storage shed, pouring sweat.

  It wasn’t as bad earlier, with the door cracked open and Sophie arching into him, but alone in the stuffy dark, in what had to be ninety degrees, he was about to die. Particularly when he heard Dev’s voice outside the door, chatting with Sophie, the way they always did.

  His best friend and the woman who seconds before was writhing in his arms, the most intoxicating look on her face as she reached climax.

  Damn, he could get addicted to that look and the high he got putting it there.

  Wright dragged a hand through his hair, damp at the temples, and fanned open the hem of his T-shirt. He had to go back inside without looking like he’d hiked a few miles in the middle of the afternoon.

  Taking his time, he went the long way, circling the inn and going in the front. Maybe by then he wouldn’t look like he’d been in a sauna.

  Vivian cocked her head to the side as he walked in the front door. “Did you go for a run with Roark?”

  “No, just a walk. Hot one out there today.”

  Her eyebrows pinched together.

  It wasn’t that hot—unless you exerted yourself by getting it on in an oven.

  Rather than stick around and try to explain his sweaty state, he hightailed it to the kitchen. In the back room was his backpack, and in his backpack he always kept a change of clothes. If you worked in a kitchen, you quickly learned to pack extra clothes.

  Once he pulled a clean shirt out of his bag, he tugged the damp one over his head and used it to pat himself dry. Probably not good enough, though.

  “Where is it?” He dug around in his bag. There was deodorant in there somewhere.

  “Ahem.” The intent yet delicate sound of a woman clearing her throat, and he didn’t have to turn around to know it was Sophie.

  He turned anyway, to find her leaning back against the door frame, her hands tucked behind her.

  “Why do you have your shirt off?” Her gaze swept over him, the greedy way she took him in rippling goose flesh across his skin.

  “Because I was soaking wet. Thanks for closing me up in a million-degree wooden box, by the way.”

  She strode toward him. “I had to close the door. Dev was standing right there. Besides, you weren’t complaining about the heat before.”

  He stared down at her. The hat and sunglasses were gone, but if anyone really paid attention, they could see the how the skin of her neck was a littler pinker, her hair a little messier than normal. “That was different. You were in there with me.”

  She slanted her gaze down, over his chest, to where he held the clean shirt in his fist.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he warned her.

  “Like what?” Her gaze flitted up.

  “Like you want to eat me.”

  The corners of her lips quirked up. “That’s not exactly the scenario I was envisioning, but close.”

  A sound escaped his lips, a punched-out noise like she’d knocked the air from his lungs. Because she had.

  Imagining her laid out before him, legs spread, with him on his knees between them—

  “What the hell has gotten into you? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “No.” She tugged at the shirt in his grip. “I’m trying to collect you. I was meeting with Dev, and Roark barged in. He wants to talk to us. All of us. And you know precisely what’s gotten into me.”

  His mouth fell open as she turned the shirt in her hands, gathering the cotton until she held the shirt open at the neck. “You can’t be serious. I have to meet with Roark? Right now?”

  She lifted her arms, jerking her chin until he bent down so she could shove the shirt over his head. “Yes, unfortunately I’m being dead serious. He interrupted me and Dev—which was just as well; I couldn’t focus worth a darn—and said we all had to meet in his office immediately.”

  Wright stuffed his arms through the short sleeves, being careful not to knock into Sophie within the close confines. “So you come in here, looking at me like that, and now we have to go to a meeting with your brothers and talk about work?”

  “Basically.”

  “You’re evil.”

  “It’s not my fault. You were the one in here topless.”

  “I was topless because you shut me up in that damn hot box and I was dripping sweat into my—Ah, to hell with it.” There was no point arguing with her, so he grabbed her up and kissed her instead.

  She clung to his shirt, fisting the material in her hands, holding him closer while also trying to push him away. “Don’t start this. We have to go to the meeting.”

  “I know, I know.” He cupped her jaw. “I’m done now. Let’s go talk about whatever it is Roark wants to talk about. I’m sure I’ll be able to focus, no problem.”

  Sophie led the way from the kitchen, her slim hips swaying with each step, her tight little body on display in the simple khaki shorts and tank. How did he ever get any work done around her before? A switch had been flipped and he couldn’t go back. Everything about her captivated him.

  The way her hair was long enough to brush her shoulders, how her eyes weren’t exactly green, but a hazel mix of gold and brown, depending on what color she wore. And that every time she’d teased him—relentlessly—over the last few years, she’d given him that same little smile, but now it wasn’t simply mischievous. Her smile was thick with promise, secretly seductive, making him reevaluate every smile he could remember.

  And, as a point of fact, since it was currently right in front of him, she had a phenomenal ass. He’d bee
n remiss about noticing how great it was.

  “Stop it.” Sophie pulled up short, forcing him to slam on the brakes.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop looking at me like that. You’re being super obvious.”

  “You mean the same way you were looking at me about a minute ago.”

  “Yes, but now we’re going to be around other people. You look at me like that in the middle of Roark’s meeting and they’re all going to know. Dial it back a notch.”

  He could try, but it would take a monumental strength of will. “Okay, but don’t sit near me.”

  “Fine.” She started walking again, her legs shapely and strong. They’d felt particularly long when wrapped around him, squeezing him tight.

  “And don’t cross your legs.”

  Her pace slowed and he took the opportunity to walk beside her. Behind her wasn’t doing him any favors.

  “Why can’t I cross my legs?”

  “Trust me on this one. I’ll stand off to the side and you take the seat by the wall, and I won’t look at you. At all. We should be fine.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes, but when they reached Roark’s office, she sat in the chair nearest the wall, and he took up his position by the window.

  Devlin was already in the other chair and Trevor soon joined them, leaning against the wall near Wright.

  “Thanks guys, for dropping what you were doing so we could meet.” Roark closed the door on his way in and sat in the old leather chair at his desk. “I know this is last minute, but the Chamber wants our theme suggestions tomorrow morning, so we need to decide.”

  Dev angled himself toward Sophie. “Everything is booked and official. Now all that’s left is executing the event.”

  Her delicate brows drew together. “All that’s left? That’s easy enough for you to say when I’m the one stuck with most of the executing. On top of everything else I do.”

  Both Roark and Dev spoke at the same time, claiming that wasn’t true, but everyone knew Sophie worked harder than anyone. Whether from lack of help or because she didn’t trust anyone else to handle things properly, Sophie tended to end up with more on her plate than anyone.